RAKEL
Home has never smelled so unfamiliar.
Or so suffocating.
I’d never smelled lilac here before Ami set foot in the door. Luz’s violet water, cool and delicate as a fountain in the Eraz’s estate, couldn’t be more out of place. And before my parents disappeared into Father’s bedroom, there was a combination of scents I’d always imagined but never actually experienced – his mint soap and rosemary beard oil and Yaita’s smoky desert rose perfume, still worn after so many turns away from home.
When I was young, I used to wonder what my family would be like if my mother was alive. Maybe she’d love riding as much as me and Father – we’d regularly journey to Aphorai City to pick up supplies and when the scents of the marketplace got too much they’d each take one of my hands to calm me. I imagined meals around the table in this very room: herb-laced barley stew, the three of us breathing the fragrant steam. There’d be stories and games of shnik-shnik and laughter. So much laughter.
All the times I imagined my parents together in this house, it wasn’t at each other’s throats. Now, their voices carry from the bedroom. Hushed tones they’re failing to force down to a whisper.
“You didn’t give her the letters?”
“Letters? There was only one. I sent it back to the temple a moon after you’d gone. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but you have to understand how it felt to—”
“How could you do that to me?”
“To you?” I’ve never heard such frustration in Father’s voice. “You left! You never said if you were coming back or not. I was heartbroken. I was trying to protect her from the same.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make, Hab, and you know it.”
“You chose your career. I chose our daughter. Who else’s decision could it have been? Yours? After seventeen turns?”
The last is the closest I’ve heard Father get to shouting since he left the Aphorain army.
The others are doing their best to politely ignore the argument, bunking down in the front room, where we should all be trying to get some sleep before we push on for Aphorai City. Luz sits staring at the floor between her boots, twisting a silver ring with an elaborate setting around her finger. Ami holds a candle and pores over what looks like a charcoal rubbing on a tattered piece of parchment.
Ash has quietly slipped outside. It’s time I took an ingredient out of the same perfume.
Like the days when we were travelling together, I find him patrolling an invisible perimeter. The rest of the village is quiet.
I cross the dust of the yard. When I’m near, he spreads an arm wide and I step forward without a second thought. He folds me against him, resting his chin on my head.
He’s so solid, so real.
But I’ve noticed there’s something different about him, too. I reach up to run my fingertips gently along cheekbones that have become even sharper. His scalp is freshly shaved, revealing the inked fangs of the winged lion that I now know is much more than a tattoo. The ink seems darker, as if there existed a more shadowy colour than black. Maybe I only think there’s been a change because his skin has paled from the moons he spent beneath Ekasya Mountain.
Or maybe it’s something more.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks, in that rich, dusky tone I feared I’d never hear again.
“My father and…” I still can’t bring myself to call Yaita “mother”. What does that word even mean to me?
“Parents,” is all he says, like it’s an explanation and his way of signalling he understands all in one. It makes me remember that Father’s and Yaita’s secrets aren’t the worse thing parents have ever done.
Regardless, I can’t go back in there.
“I’m going for a ride,” I announce.
Ash stiffens almost imperceptibly. “I know this is your home, but a lot has changed. Please be cautious.”
“I was hoping I’d have company.”
“Oh?” He sounds genuinely curious. “Oh!”
“So?”
His chin lifts as he looks towards the house.
“I think my parents have made it pretty clear they can both look after themselves. And nothing gets past Luz.”
Ash’s smoke grey eyes are almost black in the moonslight. “Perhaps an hour or two wouldn’t risk the world ending.”
I return his grin.
Lil pretends at sleep as we approach the training yard where she’s corralled with her brother. She doesn’t move when I throw her saddle blanket over her broad back, but when I reach to fasten her girth strap, I realize she’s puffed out her stomach.
“Not falling for that,” I say, waiting for her to let the breath go so I can fix the girth at the right length. “I know you’re happy to be home, but Ash and I could really use some wind in our hair. You like him, remember? And we’ll make it worth your while…”
The shine of an eye peeks out from under long, black lashes.
“What about a stop at Old Man Kelruk’s on the way back?”
She tosses her head and snorts out the extra air she’d been holding.
“Good choice.”
We mount up and set out for the distant foothills, Ash riding behind with his arms looped around me like the first night we rode together, fleeing the Rangers across the desert. Unlike that night, Ash moves smoothly with Lil’s gait from the get-go. And while we don’t have all the time in the world, for now I can at least pretend we do.
Once we’re away from the light of my house, the stars pierce the velvet sky. All I can smell is Lil’s grassy scent, crushed camelthorn bush, and the hint of cedar that emanates from Ash before the greedy breeze snatches it for herself. Let her have it. With my heart beating a counter rhythm to Lil’s hooves, Ash’s warmth at my back, the desert night stretching out before us, the world is set to rights. My horse seems to sense it, too; her canter along the dune’s crest feels joyful.
Eventually, though, Lil slows. I don’t urge her on. We’ll be there soon, the smudge of the first of Old Man Kelruk’s groves appearing out of the horizon’s silvered shadow.
The land slopes up to where Kelruk’s limewashed house gleams in the moonslight. From this distance, it’s no bigger than a thumbnail, even though it rivals the richest of Aphorai City’s homes. Kelruk loves to squawk that he built the place on bedrock so that it can withstand all but the greatest of Aphorai’s earthshakes. But it’s what oozes from beneath that rock that’s made him rich – springs that provide water for the thousands of orange trees that stretch from the edge of the desert to his hinterland stronghold.
As the dunes give way to dust and rock, the first whiff of neroli reaches me.
“Nice place.” Ash’s breath is warm against my ear but lures a shiver from me in its wake.
“And far enough away that nobody will ever know we’re around. I used to come here when I was young.” I explain over my shoulder. “This is my favourite season. Aphorain sun ripens the crop right quick, so the harvest would have come and gone. Now the next bloom has begun, and the occasional fruit that Kelruk’s pickers missed is the sweetest you’ll find anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“Even in fancy-flower Ekasya.”
“Is that a wager?”
“It’s a promise.”
We reach the treeline, and Lil weaves between the rows of trunks before I signal her to halt and slide from her back. Ash does the same, landing on near-silent feet. I push Lil’s reins back over her neck and tie them off to let her graze on the grass around the base of the trunks. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the only green feed growing this side of Aphorai City.
Ash holds out his hand.
Almost shy now that we’re alone, I take it.
The leafy canopies tower over us as we stroll, the heady scent of orange blossom gathering us up in its embrace. An image of the last time I smelled that scent flashes through my mind – arriving at the Aphorain temple after I failed the perfume trials. But that was then. Now, I’m going to reclaim the heady perfume by making a happier memory. No matter what comes after tomorrow, I’ll have this night.
We pause beneath one of the trees and I shuck my boots.
Ash tilts his head in that way that makes him seem suddenly boyish, questioning.
“Way easier to climb in bare feet.” I jump for one of the lower branches and swing myself up, holding the trunk as I stand and reach on tiptoes to the shadow of an orange that evaded the harvest. The stalk comes free from the branch with a satisfying snap.
“Hey, sweet tooth,” I call down to Ash. “Try this.”
He snatches the orange out of the air with casual ease. By the time I’ve scarpered back down the trunk, he’s peeled it in a single curl, the clean zing of the rind joining the orange blossom in perfect harmony.
He hands me half, and I pop a segment into my mouth. There’s no words for how much I’ve missed this taste.
“Well?” I ask around the next segment.
He chews slowly before nodding towards the stars. “I imagine this is what the gods eat.”
“Pah, if they want these, they’ll have to go through me first. And Old Man Kelruk. He’d scare the stench out of them. If he caught us down here he’d…”
Ash moves slowly closer. “He’d what?”
“Whatever it is, we wouldn’t like it,” I say, toying with the lacing on his leather vest.
Another step, this one as his hands land lightly on my hips. “Then perhaps we should be more discreet.”
I edge backward until we’re under the boughs, out of the gaze of the distant manse on the hill, of the stars, of the whole world. The tree’s leaves are so thick it’s black as pitch but it gives me the distinct feeling that nothing bad could ever happen under here. This darkness contains no threat. It’s ripe fruit and honeyed blossom and that unmistakable earthy spice I thought I’d never breathe again.
As if he could hear my thoughts, Ash’s hands tighten. The next thing I know my feet have left the ground so easily I could be weightless. On reflex, my legs wrap around his waist, my arms around his neck, my body as sure as my mind that there’s no place I’d rather be.
If I could see mere inches in front of my face, I’d be the taller one looking down at him. There’s a delicious sort of power in this moment. Even as my pulse quickens, I don’t want to rush. I run my fingertips lightly along his collarbone, let my thumb trail up his throat, trace the sharp angle of his stubbled jaw, and finally graze over his mouth.
His lips part with a soft sigh.
I lean down to meet them.
Our last kiss was anguish. This one is pure need. It’s searching. Seeking with lips and tongues that still taste of sweet orange between stolen breaths.
Heat is building at every point our bodies meet. Ash’s hands run from my thighs to the small of my back, pressing me closer. Even through his leathers, I can feel that he wants me as much as I want him.
Until he tears his mouth from mine with a soft moan that’s as much pain as pleasure.
“Ash? What is it?”
He straightens abruptly. A soldier’s stance. Formal.
I don’t understand.
Then he’s lifting me away and setting my feet back on the ground.
“I’m sorry. I—” He inhales sharply, like he’s barely holding himself together.
I remember the caves in Trel, the almost total darkness after the blue glow of the coral died out. For me, it was a part of our narrow, hard-won victory. For Ash, it triggered a panic attack.
I reach out, take his arm gently but firmly, and lead him out from under the tree, back into the pale sheen of the night sky.
“Ash, are you all right?”
He doesn’t reply. His eyes are closed, and he’s taking slow, purposeful breaths.
“Do you want to sit?”
He still says nothing, but he lowers himself to the ground, shifting with a wince until he settles in his usual cross-legged pose.
At another time, I might giggle. But instead I sit, mirroring him, and take his hand. I wait until his breathing has calmed completely before I speak. “Was it the darkness? Like in the caves?”
He shakes his head, eyes downcast.
I swallow, preparing to ask the last thing I want to ask. “Was it … me?”
“Perhaps.” His voice is so low and quiet that for a heartbeat I wonder if it was my fear speaking rather than him. But then he raises his face, and the shadows can’t hide the pain and frustration.
It’s everything I can do not to jerk my hand from his.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, letting out a laugh that’s more self-loathing than amusement.
Not what I think? There’s no room for logic when I’m fighting off terrible guesses and raw, stinging doubts.
“It’s that, well…” He bites his lower lip, lets it go again. “I’ve … I’ve never…”
Am I going to have to shake the answer out of him? What in the sixth hell, Ash? You’ve never what?
Oh.
Oh, oh, oh.
I try to keep my voice even, matter-of-fact. “You’ve never been with a girl?”
“I’ve never … fully … with anyone. You know I loved Nisai. And yes, we stole our share of affection behind the palace curtains before I realized all that needed to be set aside if I was going fulfil my duty as Shield. But even prior to that, it never went too far. I didn’t let it. I was always taking so much Linod’s, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to not be fully me. Fully present. In the moment.” He draws back, hand going to where there used to be a prayer braid around the opposite arm. “And now … you’ve seen what happens when I lose control.”
The shadow part of him. What happened in the throne room back in Ekasya. “I don’t think this is anything like—”
“How can you know?”
He’s got a point. I can’t know. No matter how much I believe it would be fine, more than fine, that it may even be something healing for both of us, I can’t say for sure.
This time, he takes my hands in his much larger ones. “I want to, Rakel. Believe me, there’s not much more I’ve ever wanted in my life. But until I find out more about how this works, how I work… I need to know that if we were together, I’d be completely me. Not numbed by a drug. Not governed by a curse. I’m … I’m sorry.”
I rub my thumb against his calloused palm. “I hope you know I’d never want you to do something you didn’t want with body, heart and mind.”
He smiles, almost shyly. “Thank you.”
“But in the meantime, just so I’m clear – kissing. Fine, yes?”
“More than fine.”
I lean forward and brush my lips feather-light against his cheek.
His smile broadens. “I think I can handle a little more than that.”
I smirk. “Good things come to those who wait.”
He throws up his hands in mock defeat. Then his smile turns mischievous. “You never said the same.”
“Sorry?”
“You didn’t say the same.”
Why does it feel like I’m suddenly unable to smell the orchard for the oranges?
“I’d wager,” he continues, “that means you’ve done it before.”
I burst into laughter, but my cheeks burn. Thankfully moonslight doesn’t show up a blush. I stand, dusting off my trousers, hopping from one foot to the next as I pull on my boots.
“It’s probably time we got back.”
I scan the surrounding lines of trees. My long-distance sight has been on the slow improve, but I still have to squint until I spot Lil several rows across. Ash falls into step beside me. When we reach my horse, she lifts her head and nips Ash on the shoulder.
“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks, ruffling her mane. She lets him.
“Asking ridiculous questions, probably,” I retort.
On the ride home, I’m painfully aware of Ash’s bulk behind me. I realize I’m sitting further forward in the saddle than is good for Lil, my heels not properly down, even though I try to tell myself nothing has really changed.
I shift my focus to pointing out as many landmarks as I can. Places I would know were there even if I couldn’t see at all. My whole world until not long before Ash and I first met. When there’s nothing of interest left to note, I figure I might as well get what I really need to say out of the way.
“Twice,” I blurt.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. I’ve done it twice. Once to get the awkward first time out of the way, and the second to check if I actually liked it.”
He chuckles at that, soft and throaty. “And your verdict?”
“It was nice. But not groundshake material. Figured that was probably because it wasn’t with the right person. Not that he shared the same opinion.”
“Ah. Barden?”
“Uh-uh.” I can’t help but wonder if the space I’ve been keeping between us is turning cold.
“You could have told me it was none of my business, you know.”
“I could’ve. But I’ve had enough of secrets. You’re the last person I want to keep anything from.”
The muscles in Ash’s arms tighten.
I can hear my heartbeat. Slow. Waiting. Dreading what might come next.
But all he does is shift me to where I should be in the saddle, my back to his chest. He smooths my hair and kisses the nape of my neck.
I let myself exhale.
It’s still a ways yet to my village.
Though I feel like I’m already home.